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When the weight on them is too light, the horses are afraid. They do not understand what is astride them. They do not believe it is a man, and are too proud to carry women. Papa weighed about fifteen stone, and the horses were always quiet under him. Ian weighs about thirteen stone, I should guess. If your horsemanship continues as well as you promise now, Adam, I imagine Ian will mount you on the gray destriers when you weighoh, eight or ten stone." |
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That seemed safe. Adam weighed a little more than four stone already, and he was aware of how quickly he was gaining height and weight. Therefore, it would seem to him that putting on another four or five stone of weight would not take long. Alinor knew, of course, that Adam would not continue growing at the rate he was now, and, more important, that long before he gained another four stone he would be in some other household, well away from the temptation of her grandfather's strain of horseflesh. |
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Fortunately, the interlude had broken Alinor's mood. Chilling fears of her inability to live up to Ian's standards were overlaid by the pleasant concept of day-to-day life with him. Instead of turning back to her embroidery, over which she could brood and indulge in her fears and self-pity, she sent Adam off to make up the lessons he had missed. To his groans of protest that it was a stupid waste of time for a man to learn to read and write, she replied that Ian read and wrote fluently. |
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"You know he would not bother to reply to a letter written by a scribe," Alinor suggested, "but if you write with your own hand and ask him when you will be ready to ride, I am sure he would write a letter back to you. I will lend you a messenger to carry your letter." |
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To send a letter by a messenger all his own! "What seal will I use?" Adam asked with a spark of enthusiasm. |
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"Your father's, of course," Alinor replied gravely. "It is yours now by right. You will find it near to mine in the small brown chest on the writing table in the |
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